And it Goes on: the 95th Hunger Games
by Chucklez-Lives-On
Summary: What if the Mockingjay Rebellion, the Quarter Quell, any sign of rebellion, had never happened? The Games would continue, and so they do. Rated "T" because, well, it's the Hunger Games. Wow, I really stink at summaries. But trust me, (I think) the story is better than this summary. R&R, please!
1. Chapter 1: District 1's Reaping

**Hi! So, this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction... so please don't be too harsh with me...! And please don't tell me about Hunger Games inaccuracies- I know I have some and they're meant to be like that- this is Fanfiction, not the works of Suzanne Collins. On that note... Disclaimer time! Whoop-dee-do. I don't own the Hunger Games, but I own the characters.**

* * *

"Come on, Diamond, please?" begged Caleb. "Volunteer with me?"

It was Reaping Day- the day the Tributes are decided for the Hunger Games. And we were standing in District One's training center for Careers. I was a Career, and so was Caleb. We'd trained all our lives to be put in an arena and killing the others who were dropped in there with us. Not that I minded. Being a Tribute, representing District One, was a great honor. Caleb, who was seventeen, wanted to Volunteer to go in place of the the one who was Reaped. I was sixteen, and had a year less training than him. I shook my head. "I don't think so, Caleb. I still think I need at least another year's worth of training."

"No, you don't. You've been training for this since you were born. Sixteen years, Diamond. _Sixteen_. And we'll get even more when we go to the Training Center at the Capitol. The other Tributes will have about a week's worth of training."

"Still..." I say. "You've had an extra year's worth of training over me."

"So? I've been waiting for you. You didn't want to go last year because you said you were too young and unready. So of course, I had to watch Tony volunteer and then wind up dying."

"What if you had taken the Reaped kid's place? You could've wound up in Tony's situation. You could've died," I say, reaching out for his hand.

Caleb swatted it away. "I would've been smart enough to dodge that spear. That District 6 kid, it's a miracle she won last year."

"He had pretty good odds," I said. "She got a good score in the Training, from what I heard."

Caleb sniffs disdainfully. "An eight isn't that good. I myself plan on getting a ten or above."

I rolled my eyes. Caleb's my best friend, but he was really full of himself.

"Please?" he begs once more. "Please, Diamond? I'm going to Volunteer, wether you join me or not. I'm done waiting."

I sigh. "We'll see, I guess. Anyways, we better get going," glancing at the clock on the wall, I startle myself. "Caleb! The Reaping starts in fifteen minutes! We'd better go."

And so off we went, to the Reaping.

* * *

"Hello, District One!" a tall, skinny, balding man was standing on the stage. "I'm Gregory Chaise, the District One escort!"

The crowd applauds. I actually hear whooping. Gregory, or Greg, has been District One's escort since before I was born. And he always puts on a good show at the Reapings.

"Well then, let's get down to business!" he nods. "I'm going to switch it up a bit! Gentlemen first this year!" he reached his hand into the Reaping Ball containing the boys' names. "And may the odds _ever_ be in your favor!" he cries as he pulls out a slip of paper.

For some reason, I realize that I'm holding my breath. I slowly exhale.

Greg reads the name on the paper. "Maxwell Davis!" he roars.

A boy who can't be much older than fourteen, slowly approaches the podium after being given a shove from an older boy who seems to be his brother. And then I hear the cry that I've been expecting. Caleb has pushed through the crowd. He thrusts the boy back, yelling, "I volunteer!"

Maxwell moves back and charges to the older boy as Caleb leaps up onto the stage.

"That's the spirit, young man! What's your name?" Gregory nods.

Caleb smiles confidently. "Caleb Grayson." "Well, everybody, let's welcome our newest Tribute, Caleb Grayson!"

The crowd applauds, cheers, and whoops. I, on the other hand, sigh. I wanted to go into the Games with Caleb, but I still haven't changed my mind about not being ready. Caleb catches my eye and grins. I look away.

"And now for the ladies!" Greg says merrily, reaching his hand into the girls' Reaping Ball. "Glitter Fairfield!"

A young girl, about age 12, who is close to the stage, clinging onto another girl who is presumably her twin, and is squeezing an older woman's hand, her mother's, obviously, looks up Gregory with wide, scared eyes.

"Well, come on now, don't be shy!" Greg smiles.

The little girl slowly let's go of her mother and her sister. I look at Caleb, who is looking at the girl, rolling his eyes. I can almost read his mind. This _will be my District Partner? A twelve-year-old who looks like she's never seen a weapon in her life?_

I couldn't let this happen. Not because Caleb deserved a better District partner- the girl was too young. Sure, I hadn't wanted to enter this year, but having such a little girl enter was just unfair. And none of the other Careers would Volunteer for her, because they knew that Caleb and I were supposed to be a pair and they expected me to take her place.

The crowd's eyes on the girl, the Careers' eyes on me, I launch myself forward, heart beating quicker than it should, screaming, "I volunteer!"

The girl, who is just starting to climb the steps to the stage, looks at me with clear, pale blue eyes that are so wide you can see more white parts than the blue, shrinks back and runs back to her mother as I leap up the steps.

"Nice of you to join me." Caleb, who is smiling and waving at the crowd, mutters at me through closed teeth.

"Another Volunteer?" Greg tries to act surprised, but it's obvious that he isn't. This happens every year. If you're Reaped, a Volunteer will save your butt. That's just how things go in District One. And Two and Four.

"What's your name, Sweetheart?"

"Diamond." I say in between breaths. "Diamond Reed."

"Well, Diamond, it's good to see strong people stepping up for weaker ones. Anyways, let's give a round of applause for Diamond Reed protecting the Reaped One!"

Now the little girl's nickname is the Reaped One. I shudder as the crowd applauds. I look at the little girl, who is clinging onto her mother for dear life, as though she expects to be taken away for the Games anyways. I look at my family- my mom, my dad, and my three brothers. My mom has a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but she knows that this is what I've been training for my whole life. My dad looks a little somber as he calls out my name, beginning a chanting round. My brothers are whooping and yelling, as if they don't know what could happen to me when I get to the arena.

"Now, how about the Tributes shake hands?" Greg smiled. I turned to face Caleb. I reached out, like I did earlier, except this meant a lot more. That and I had to take his right hand and shake it, not seek it for comfort. But now, I don't need comfort. I am ready.

* * *

**Here's the Tribute List:**

**District 1 Girl: Diamond Reed: Age 16  
****District 1 Boy: Caleb Grayson: Age 17**

**District 2 Girl: Sadie Forbes: Age 18  
****District 2 Boy: Miles Halifax: Age 18**

**District 3 Girl: Samantha Greene: Age 16  
****District 3 Boy: Caden Montague: Age 16**

**District 4 Girl: Cassandra Sewall: Age 18  
****District 4 Boy: Lawrence Walsh: Age 18**

**District 5 Girl: Lily Wade: Age 14  
****District 5 Boy: Marcus Hayes: Age 15**

**District 6 Girl: Lark Griiffiths: Age 13  
****District 6 Boy: Mitchell Underwood: Age 15**

**District 7 Girl: Kassidy Baylor: Age 16  
****District 7 Boy: Gabriel Blackthorn: Age 18**

**District 8 Girl: Azalea Kent: Age 12  
****District 8 Boy: Leo Herrald: Age 17**

**District 9 Girl: Dawn Ashfeild: Age 15  
****District 9 Boy: Blake Crest: Age 16**

**District 10 Girl: Thalia Springs: Age 15  
****District 10 Boy: Marcus Sage: Age 13**

**District 11 Girl: Olive Dunseburry: Age 14  
****District 11 Boy: Ray Seeder: Age 18**

**District 12 Girl: Artemis Taylor: Age 15  
****District 12 Boy: Gerald Pine: Age 17**

**R&R please :)**


	2. Chapter 2: District 2's Reaping

"Come on, Miles, wake up!"

Groaning, I cover my head with my pillow. "Clover, why did you have to wake me up so early?"

"Mom had me." Clover said simply, reaching for her hairbrush. "Besides,you need to look pretty today. It's Reaping Day, remember?"

"Oh yeah!" I sit up, and remove the pillow from my head. "I'm volunteering this year."

"You are?" Clover looks at me in surprise.

"Well, of course I am. I'm eighteen."

"But what if somebody beats you to volunteering?"

"Not gonna happen." I get out of bed and walk over to the closet, where I pull out my Reaping outfit- a pair of neat black pants and a crisp white shirt. Wait- crisp? The shirt hadn't ironed it in a year. I haven't worn this shirt since last year's Reaping. "Clover?" I ask. "Did mom iron my shirt?"

"No. She's out at the market. She just found out that we're out of breakfast foods." Clover said lazily, from where she was sitting on my bed, brushing her hair.

"Dad didn't do it, did he?"

"Idiot." she grumbled. "I did it."

"Right. How stupid of me." I grin, and go over to kiss her on the forehead.

Clover stared at me. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" I ask her.

"Train every day to... to... go into an arena and die." Clover says.

I look at her, shocked. "Clover, it's a great honor to participate in the Hunger Games. You know that."

"But people don't make it back." by now, Clover has tears dripping down her pretty face. "Miles, they _die_. I wish that you weren't a Career."

"People do make it back. I mean, Dad made it back." we lived in Victor's Village, our father being a Career tribute himself, and having won the 76 Hunger Games (this was the ninety-fifth).

"He got lucky."

"Clover, I'm doing it to save somebody else's life."

"But you're risking your own life in the process."

"Clover, all I want to do is bring pride to District Two. Bring pride to our family." "There's not much pride in dying."

"Clover!" I yell, losing all patience with my sister. "How dare you! I don't plan on dying!"

"Nobody here does." Clover muttered darkly. "All the Careers are are fools who think that just because they've had more training than the rest, they'll make it out alive. Miles, there can only be one victor. And there's about a one in twenty-four chance that you'll make it out alive. You know how quick some of the people from poorer Districts learn. Besides, they have more survival skills than you. Like District Twelve- I bet some of them have to use their wits and skills every day just to have a hope of eating a meal."

I sigh. "I'm still participating. It would be a great dishonor if I didn't. This would be one of my last years to participate."

"It would be a great dishonor if you die." Clover sighed, but says no more.

I didn't understand Clover, how she seemed to know more about things like this than many of the citizens of District Two. She shouldn't. We were raised to think that being a Tribute was a great honor. How she became so aware and so caring about other Districts- I don't know. But really, I thought she was just talking nonsense. It was as if she believed that instead of being a Tribute for the Games was not the greatest honor one could receive- but the greatest dishonor. It was insultin all I had worked for. And I was angry that Clover thought that way.

It seemed like my mother had done a shopping trip that would last us several days. She had brought home two loaves of bread, milk, meat, fresh fruit, some other things, and a cake.

"Hey mom," I say, taking some of the food off her hands. "What's the cake for?"

"You'll see." she winked, placing it on the counter, and throwing a cloth over it. So obviously it was meant for me.

"Clover, sweetie, time for breakfast!" called my mom as my dad walked into the house. He had been buying a new pair of shoes for me to wear to the Reaping- I had outgrown the ones from last year.

Clover appeared from the bathroom. He face was shiny with water. So obviously she had washed her face to hide that she had been crying. She never liked to be seen crying.

After we finished eating, Mom brought out the cake. "Well, since this would be the last meal that we'll have together before Miles Volunteers, how about a little celebration?" she placed it in front of me. I smiled. It was a marble cake, with chocolate frosting and dark blue icing that read "Congratulations".

"Wow, mom!" I say. "How long did it take the baker to make this?" "Oh, about three days." she smiled.

My dad brought out a knife and asked how big I wanted it.

Grinning from ear to ear, I asked for just a small sliver of the cake. I didn't want to eat too much. That wouldn't be good. I have heard that after you're reaped, you have a lot of feasts.

After I taken my piece, Dad offers some to Clover, who refuses and gets up from the table and walks away. I suppose I don't blame her. To her, this feast is celebrating my death.

After that little celebration, I put on my new shoes, and walk out the door, my parents following, talking in low murmurs. Clover trails after them, muttering darkly to herself.

We reach the stage, right as the Reaping begins. A medium-sized woman struts out onto the stage. She had bright blue eyes, a bright orange dress with a fat bow on the side of the neck. She has horn-rimmed glasses and is wearing ridiculously high heels.

I hear some people snicker, probably because of the woman's outfit. I look over my shoulder to see a group of girls who work at the Training Center as Careers. I recognize a few of them. There's Adrianna Harte, who is fifteen and wouldn't dare enter the Games yet. There's Sadie Forbes, who is eighteen and will probably become my District Partner for these games. She's tall, with well-tanned skin and she's very muscly and she has a very sharp tongue. I often avoid her, because she is a perfectionist and she doesn't like it when others screw up. She uses her sharp tongue to scold them. I'm not scared of her... she's just annoying.

The lady introduces herself. "Hello there!" she chirps merrily. "I'm Sandy Herrington, your escort for the ninety-fifth Hunger Games! May the odds _ever_ be in your favor!" she looks at us with narrow, almost bird-like eyes. I suppose she wants a very loud applause. And so she gets one. There's whooping, cheering- someone even breaks into song, but is instantly shut up when Sandy claps her hands.

"Ladies first, of course!" she says, reaching into the girls' Reaping Ball and groping around for what had to be the perfect name. Finally, after what seems like a minute, she pulls out the name. "Lanya-"

"I volunteer!" I was right. Even before Sandy has finished saying the name, Sadie is pushing through the crowd and walking up onstage.

"Well then!" Sandy peers at Sadie through her spectacles, seeming almost surprised that she would dare interrupt her. But the surprise quickly fades, as she goes on, like that had never happened, saying, "Let's give it up for District Two's female Tribute! What's your name?"

"Sadie Forbes." she says simply. One of Sadie's friends, another Career, begins to chant, "Sa-die! Sa-die! Sa-die!" and everyone else quickly picks up the cheer. Even I find myself calling her name. I think Sandy might've done so once or twice, before she pulled herself together and brought the crowd to a silence. "Well then, that's done, now for the male Tribute!" she swiftly plunges her hand into the Ball, not even bothering to feel around like she did for the girls', and grabs the first piece of paper her hand touches. "Marc Chambers!"

I quickly glance at Clover, who is tearing up again. I take a deep breath. Not even my sister's cries can stop me now as I barge through the crowd, yelling loudly, "I volunteer!"

"Wonderful!" Sandy almost like a cat- she is practically purring. "And what's your name?"

"Miles Halifax." I say proudly, trying to push the image of my sister from my head.

"Well, let's give it up for-" Sandy doesn't even have to say my name before the crowd roars my name, applauding loudly, and several are whooping and cheering. Being the son of a past Hunger Games victor, I'm quite well-known. I sneak a look of triumph at Sadie, who simply rolls her eyes at me and continues looking out at the sea of people. I follow her, catching the eyes of my parents, who look at me proudly. I dare make eye contact with Clover, who just gives me a look that tells me she's given up. I don't mind this look, but I mind the fact that she is now looking away, as though she can't bear to look at me, as if she knows something that I don't.

_Is Clover really right? Am I really being sent to my death? _


	3. Chapter 3: District 3's Reaping

"Wake up, Samantha, please, wake up." my little sister, Hailey, shook me awake.

I jolt upright. "What's wrong? Who's there?" I gasp. "Oh," I sigh, sinking back onto my pillow. "It's you. What's wrong?" my little sister is breathing heavily, her eyes wide. "Wait, what time is it?" I glance at the curtains. There's light seeping through them, but it isn't sunlight. It's moonlight.

"Erm..." my sister mumbles. "Around midnight..."

I'm fully awake now. I take a deep breath, and repeat my question. "What's wrong?"

"I had a nightmare. Again." she says quietly. "About being Reaped."

"Again?" I ask.

"Yeah. I had one earlier, too."

"Oh... well, do you want to tell me about it?" I ask, moving the sheets on my bed, signaling to her to climb in.

She nods, snuggling up against me once she's under. "Well..." she began. "I dreamed that I was standing alone in the center of Town, well, there was the escort, of course, but there was only one Reaping Ball, and every single slip of paper in that jar had my name, so when the escort pulled one out and announced my name, a wave of red- b-blood, I think, swept me into this h-h-horibble arena, and it was filled with deserts and there were these creepy birds feasting on d-d-dead people's intestines, and then I got really thirsty, so I went over to what looked like a lake, and then I saw it was full of blood, and then c-c-c-creepy masked figures shoved me into the l-l-lake and then the last thing I remember is them laughing while I d-d-drowned!" she let out a wail and buried her face in my shirt.

I sigh. Although this would be her first year that she could even possibly have a chance of being Reaped, every night, before the Reaping, since she's been old enough to know the horrors of the Hunger Games, she's had horrific nightmares about her being sentenced to her doom. And now that she's twelve, she has the possibility of being reaped. But she should know that I would never let that happen. I would take her place in a heartbeat. "Well, you can sleep with me. Nothing will happen to you while I'm around."

"Thank you." she whispered. Snuggling even closer to me, she fell asleep instantly. I looked at her little sleeping figure. _Nothing will ever happen to you, if I have any say in it._

* * *

I woke up particularly early that morning. Unsuccessfully trying to get out of bed without waking Hailey, she opens her eyes. "Oh, Samantha, I had another dream," she says.

"Not as bad as the first two, I hope." I say, getting out of my pajamas.

"No, no. It was much better. I had a dream that I had been Reaped, and it started off like the second dream, but then before the figures got to me, you magically appeared with a sword and then you drove them all off. You also scared those weird birds, so they flew away. And then you picked me up, and then skipped out of the arena."

I stare at her. My sister has the wildest imagination that can lead to the scariest and weirdest things. That dream was particularly weird, but I'm glad she's content with how it turned out.

We walk into the little kitchen. I'm not particularly hungry, so I simply grab a roll from the bag on the table, and nibble on it.

"Are you worried, Samantha?" Hailey asks, munching on an apple.

"Nah," I say nonchalantly, trying to hide my true feelings of the fact that I am a little worried. "I don't think I'll ever get Reaped. There's a lot of people out there."

"Oh. Okay." Hailey says.

My mom walks into the room, followed by my dad. "Good morning, girls. What are you doing up so early?"

"Um..." I don't know how to answer that, so I go with the old saying: "The early bird catches the worm?"

"Can't argue with that." my dad plunks himself down in a chair and reaches for the bag of rolls. "Can one of you get me the butter? And a knife?"

"Sure, Dad." I say, reaching the cabinet in two strides. I have long legs that don't seem to stop growing, and I can reach places rather quickly. I open the door to the cabinet, grab the butter, reach for a knife, and stride back over to Dad, handing him his requests. "Thanks, sweetie," he says, beginning to butter his roll.

"Now, girls, have you had breakfast yet?" Mom asks, pulling out a carton of milk.

I stuff the rest of my roll into my mouth. "Yes," I mumble around the mouthful. I pinch myself. My nerves always made me do inappropriate things.

My dad chuckles. Hailey stares at me with wide eyes. My mom rolls her eyes. "Having a case of the jitters?"

Frantically I shake my head, trying to make sure Hailey believes what I told her, about not being nervous. Of course, my mom doesn't believes me, but she senses that my nervousness must be something kept secret. So she goes along with it.

"Well then, if you're done, can you go find the dress you wore to the Reaping when you were eleven? I think Hailey will finally be able to fit in it." my family was better off than some, but my parents didn't have money to spend money on something that I can supply for Hailey. My clothes. Every single pair of clothes, with the exception of undergarments and several other things, the stuff she wears was once mine.

I nod, and hurry to my bedroom, where I fling open my closet, and I dig to the very back where the dress is. It's a very pale blue dress with a slight rip on the side, from where I tripped, when we walked to the center of the town. I also pulled out a pair of cream flats that I wore then last year at the Reaping. They go with the dress nicely. My feet are shorter than the rest of me, so they would fit Hailey nicely.

I run out of my room, and give my sister her "new" dress, and shoes.

My mom looks at me, smiling. "Oh, that's a good idea. Those shoes will work well with the dress."

"Exactly my thoughts, Mom."

Hailey went to change, and I looked at Mom. "Thanks for keeping quiet. About me being scared."

"Oh, honey, I know you better than you think." she says.

Suddenly, I rush to my mom and hug her tightly, like I'm Hailey's age. "I'm scared." I whisper. "It feels different this year. Every other year, I know that I'm safe, but this year... it feels... different. Like everything will be different this year."

"You know, Hailey seems more scared this year. I think you two might have... a connection of some sort. I think you may be feeling her fear." I stare at my mother. "She will never go into that arena of death. I'd take her place in a heartbeat."

"Perhaps that's what's worrying her. You." my dad says.

My eyes widen. "Da-"

"William, that's not necessary!" snaps my mom.

I sigh. My dad is a good parent, but he can say things at the wrong time and it makes already-bad situations a whole lot worse.

Hailey runs back into the room, her curly brown hair tangled up in knots. "How do I look?" she says, twirling around in the dress like several female Tributes will do to show off their dresses during the interviews.

"You look very pretty." I nod encouragingly. "But we ought to do something about your hair."

"Speaking of which, Samantha, you better brush your hair. Probably put it up, too." my mom says, gesturing us to go out of the kitchen. I take Hailey's hand and lead her into my room. I pick up the hairbrush and begin brushing the knots out of her hair. After I finish that, I ask her, "What type of hair do you want? A braid, ponytail, pigtails, bun...?"

"Pigtails!" squealed Hailey. Pigtails are her signature hair design. I go to a small shelf that I have, and I reach up and grab some ribbon that I got last year, and tie up my sister's hair with it. She twirls some more. "Thank you, Samantha!"

"Anything for you," I say, putting my hair in a simple ponytail.

"Girls!" my mom calls. "Are you done yet? We need to go!"

"Yes!" I call back, feeling a little more confident. I take Hailey's hand and we go back into the kitchen.

"You two look beautiful!" my mom smiles.

My dad, who is now changed from his bedtime clothes, nodded. "Well, let's get going." he says.

We get there particularly early- my mom always says, "Better early than late".

I watch the crowd fill up. I see my friends, Tammy Howe and Jessabelle Keefe, standing around the edge of the crowd, whispering to each other. I want to go over to join them, but Hailey is clinging onto my hand for dear life, and I can't move.

Finally, after what seems like days, District Three's escort, Rain Lace, who is practically an exact replica of Effie Trinket, who was an escort about ten or fifteen years ago for District Twelve, prances onto the stage. "Hel-lo!" she says, with great flourish.

A scattered applause ripples through the area.

But of course, Rain expects more. "Show some Hunger Games spirit!" she says dramatically. The crowd applauds harder. Although me, who does not have any "Hunger Games Spirit" simply gives Hailey's hand a quick squeeze and stares intently at the Reaping Ball that contains the girls' names. Who has the most likely chance of being selected? How many times is my name in there? Hailey's? My friends?

After the applause dies down, Rain continues. "Happy Hunger Games! May the odds _ever_ be in your favor!" she chirps. "Let's go! Girls first..." she plunges her hand into the ball. She grasps a name near the bottom and pulls it out with a flourish. "Samantha Greene!"

"NO!" screams Hailey. Somehow, I know what she'll say next, so I clamp my free hand over her mouth, and she makes a muffled, "I vumphlia". She's now squeezing my hand so hard, it's cutting off my circulation. I rip my hand free, and remove my other hand from her mouth. She uses this time to say "I-"

I stick my face very close to hers. "Don't. You. Dare." I say harshly, fighting back tears that are coming. Hailey watches helplessly as I shove my way through the crowd, furious and scared to death. I actually wind up pushing a younger boy into his brother. And I'm very aware that cameras are watching this.

"Well, give it up for the female tribute, Samantha Greene!" Rain smiles.

I'm not surprised when nobody applauds. I can tell that Rain definitely isn't very happy with this, but she doesn't make them applaud.

"Well, let's have the boys now, shall we?" she chirps, managing to stay upbeat. She reaches her hand (which, I can now see have ridiculously long nails) and pulls out a name on the very top. "Caden Montague!"

I stare at the boy who slowly approaches the podium. And I gasp. A boy, my age, age fifteen, with jade green eyes and short, light brown hair, climbs up the steps. It's the brother of the younger boy who I shoved on my way up.

"Well, here's to Caden Montague!" Rain smiles. There's applause. Even several people are cheering.

I look at the little boy- his brother. He's near tears. I nearly cry at the sight of him, but I have to be more dignified now. I look at my mom and my dad. They're near the back of the crowd, their eyes wide, expressions horrified. Florence is whimpering. Tammy's holding back tears, I can tell, because her eyes are glistening. And finally, I look at Hailey. She's crying, sniffing, and I think I may hear a few wails. Tammy and Florence slip through the crowd and they do a group hug-type thing with her. I stare at the trio. _I'm going to win. I have to. There's no other way,_ I think, as the anthem plays and Rain makes Caden and I shake hands.

And then we're led away by Peacekeepers.


	4. Chapter 4: District 4's Reaping

"Wake up, wake up, wake up! Lawrence, wake up!" my brother, Harris, is jumping on my bed, and winds up jumping on my knee.

"Argh!" I yell, as he continues bouncing. "Knock it off!" I throw my pillow at him.

It hits him, and he yells, and flops onto the bed. "Reaping day!" he chirps.

"Yeah? So...?" I'm not fully awake, and my knee pain is distracting me.

"Aren't you volunteering this year?" It hits me.

I nearly slap myself. He's right. I will Volunteer this year. "Yes."

"Are you sure you're ready?" he stares at me intently.

I roll my eyes. "Observe my body. Does it look like it?" I get out of bed and stand in front of him.

"Well, you should be ready if you put more clothes on." he says, grinning.

I pick up my pillow and whack him again.

"But I have a point!" he protests, grabbing the pillow from me and firing it at my face.

"But I guess you're right." I go into my dresser drawers. "Get outta my room."

"Fine." Harris stalks out of the room. I get changed, and march into Harris's room. "Well, you need to get changed, too."

"Sure, I suppose," Harris says mockingly. "Get outta my room."

"Oh, shut up." I grumble.

"Well, it's what you sound like."

"Thank you." I do a sweeping bow, where my hair touches my feet, and strut out of the room and into the kitchen, where I look on the counter. "Yay, bread." I cut off a piece and place a little bit of meat on it. Then I slap another piece on top of it and munch on it.

"Hello, son." my dad walks into the room, my mom slowly following. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Why?" I ask, between bites of my breakfast.

"I don't know, it's natural to be nervous before the Reaping."

"I'm prepared."

"I know you are. But you can still be nervous." my mom says as Harris walks into the room.

_Oh no. Here it comes._ Harris's eyes widen, and his mouth curves upward into a grin. "Lawrence is scared?"

"No!" I say quickly.

"Uh-huh." of course, he doesn't believe me.

"Well, be sure you're ready, boys, we leave in a half an hour." my dad says.

I wolf down the rest of my sandwich, and then I help myself to an apple. Munching on it, I go back to my room. I reach under my bed and pull out a small box that contains keepsake items. I dig around in it and pull out a woven bracelet that my friend, Hope Anderson, made for me. When I go into the arena, this'll be my token. I know that it's rather odd for a boy to wear a bracelet, but it is brown, gray, and black and it looks like something a boy could wear. I slip it on, and I walk back into the kitchen, tossing the apple core into the trash can. "I'm ready to go," I say.

"Well, we have a few more minutes, you know." my mom says.

"I'd rather be early."

"Well, I'm not arguing with that." my dad stands up. "Harris! Let's go!"

Harris runs back into the room. "All righty, then."

And so we leave. Turns out, my mom was wrong. We get there just a little before District Four's escort, Periwinkle Grace, struts out onto the stage. "Happy Hunger Games!" she cries as the crowd applauds. "And may the odds _ever_ be in your favor! Now," she says, cutting right to the chase. "Let's begin! Ladies first!" she plunges his hand into the Reaping Ball that contains the girls' names. "Nad-"

A yell comes before the full name is announced, and it comes from the eighteen-year-old girls' section. "I volunteer!" I glance at the girl who is making her way over to the stage. It's Cassandra Seawall, who I often see training at the training center for Careers. She often works at the shooting section, where she works with a bow-and-arrow. I have seen her being put to the task of having to shoot targets- dummies- and wound up shooting every single one in the exact same place- where the heart would be. I flash back, feeling a shiver run down my spine. I'm glad she's my District Partner. But I'm not saying she's stronger than me. I am skilled in wrestling, and using a trident.

"Lovely! And who might you be?" Periwinkle chirps.

"Cassandra Seawall." she says calmly.

"Well, let's give it up for Cassandra Seawall!" she smiles, and the crowd applauds.

"Now, let's have the boys!" Periwinkle announces. "Albert Gregor!"

I don't hesitate rushing forward. "I volunteer!" I holler, stepping up onto the stage.

The crowd's already cheering before Periwinkle asks for my name.

I'm a very popular Career, and I know it. Some girls who I see on the streets often refer to me as the younger version of Finnick Odair, who was apparently a very handsome Career boy from eighteen years ago, who won the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, and is now a mentor and has a wife and a son. The crowd is still going crazy, so Periwinkle doesn't bother loudly asking for my name. Instead, she asks me rather quietly, while running one of her hands over my cheek.

Cassandra watches her, eyes wide. Even I'm surprised. Girls seem to often want to touch me, but usually just play with my hair. _Is an escort even allowed to do this type of thing?_ I think, when Periwinkle steps back.

"Lovely!" she says. "That's District Four's tributes! Shall you shake hands?"

I reach out and Cassandra meets it with her own hand. We shake as the anthem plays, and the crowd cheers some more. And then we're escorted away by the white-uniformed Peacekeepers.


	5. Chapter 5: District 5's Reaping

"Good morning, sweetheart." my mom gently shook me awake.

I opened my eyes. "G'morin-n-n-n..." I broke off in a huge yawn.

"Oh, Lily..." my mom laughed. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty good," I shrug. "Well, for the night before the Reaping."

"Aw, honey..." sighed my mom. "I'm so sorry..."

"Not your fault." I mumble.

"Still..."

"Well, I've let you sleep in as long as I can. Now, you have to hurry. The Reaping starts in about a half an hour."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" I bolt out of bed. "Mom, I'll never be ready in that time!" "Well, I thought you needed sleep." my mom said.

"Um... I suppose I did." I get up, and get dressed, then step into the kitchen.

My mom and I live in a small house near the center of town. My dad died in a nuclear explosion when I was five, leaving my mom as the provider for the family. She works as an assistant at some place I can't remember, and it brings in a decent amount of money. I never go to bed hungry, I've always got clothing that isn't ripped or dirt-covered, and our little house satisfies our living space needs. We've got two bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny living area, and a small kitchen with a little table with four scrubbed wooden chairs sitting there, which we use when we have guests. But we don't have many of those.

"So, Lily, toast?"

"Please," I yawn, plopping myself down in one of the chairs.

My mom smiled, and pulled out a loaf of bread, and then put it on the fire.

And then I decided to close my eyes, and see if I felt a little more rested.

"Lily, wake up."

My eyes shot open, startled. "What is it?"

"Time to go."

"But what about breakfast?"

"Later. We'll eat after the Reaping. You were in a pretty deep sleep. I couldn't wake you up."

"Whoops. I'm tired." I stand up.

Mom nods. "Understandable. Well, we ought to get going. There's about five minutes until the Reaping starts."

"Okay," I agree, and then follow my mom out the door.

We get there with enough time for me to walk over to the fourteen-year-old girls' section, and squeeze in between Rose Arlington, who I am good friends with, and Sara Painter, who is the mayors daughter, who I am good enemies with. We just can't seem to get along.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Reaping for the ninety-fifth Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Harvey David, the escort for District 5, roared.

There was a light scatter of applause. Harvey was never one to enjoy District Five's enthusiasm, or lack of it, and, given his way, we'd have clap all day for this occasion. But after a quick glare at the crowd, he went on. "Now, down to business. We all know the drill. So, ladies first!" he grabbed the big bowl containing the girls' names and quickly scooped a name from the top of the bowl. "Lily Wade!" he roars.

Everyone turns to look at me.

My heart begins to race. _Please, let me have just misheard and everyone's staring at me because I farted or burped or something..._ but of course, I knew what had happened. I was going to an arena, and either die, or be scarred for life.

"Lily Wade!" Harvey called again. Slowly, I eased my way through the crowd. Surprised thirteen year olds stare at me. Little twelve-year-olds watch me, their eyes wide and mouths in little "O" shapes. Any other time, I'd find this cute, but right now it's rather repulsive. I climb the steps of the stage, gripping onto the railing like my life depends on it.

"Oh, hello, Lily. I thought you weren't going to come!" Harvey grabbed my hand and shook it. In return, I let him fling my arm up and down, staring at him blankly. After what seems like forever, Harvey lets go, and my arm flops to my side. He grasps my shoulders and turns me to face the crowd, because I feel frozen, incapable of doing that myself. "Let's give it up for District 5's newest Tribute!" he cries.

Scattered applause. More than I hoped for- I expected silence.

"A step-up from the usual," Harvey mutters, and although he was talking to himself, I still heard it. "Well, now for the laddies, how 'bout it?" he picks up the boys' Reaping Ball, plunges his hand in, and gropes around for a couple seconds. "Marcus Hayes!" he yells.

A boy who can't be more than a year older than me slowly eases his way through the crowd and cautiously climbs the steps up to the stage. For some random reason, I want to hug him. Like he's the only person that I'll trust ever again. Because he was Reaped with me.

Harvey orders us to shake hands, and so I reach out and he swiftly grasps my hand and he squeezes it, along with shaking it. His hands are big and firm, but they're sticky, and I can tell that he's sweating.

After what seems like forever, he releases my hand and I let it drop to my side.

"Well, let's give it up for District Five's Tributes!" Harvey cries. And so there's more applause.

I look out over the crowd to find my mom crying. _What about breakfast?_ I think. But of course, I don't care about breakfast. In about a minute, I went from hungry to full. I may very well vomit up nothing.

I sneak a glance at Marcus, who is staring straight at the crowd, face emotionless, eyes blank, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Well, that's it!" Harvey brings his little show to an end. He claps his hands. And then the white-uniformed Peacekeepers make a circle around us and began to march forward. Marcus and I, stuck in the middle, had no choice but to move forward with them.


	6. Chapter 6: District 6's Reaping

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, but I own the characters.**

* * *

"Hey, Mitch! Wake up! We've gotta go soon!" my sister, Pansy, was poking me.

"Where?"

"The... Reaping..."

"Oh. Right. That." I get out of bed, shoo my sister out of my room, and get changed into my Reaping clothes- khakis, a blue-collared shirt, and brown shoes.

"Morning, Mitchell." my mom says. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Er... just a little bit." My mom hands me an apple, and Pansy takes one for herself, barely eating it, just scraping her teeth on the skin. I eat half of the apple and then toss it.

My mom rolls her eyes. "Mitchell, don't waste these things!" but I can tell she's not that mad. In fact, she looks more scared, that she'll lose one of us in the Reaping.

"Do we have to go?" Pansy moans. "I feel sick."

"Oh boy," I sigh, as Pansy retches. But of course, since she hasn't eaten anything, nothing comes up.

"I wish we could stay home..." my mom says worriedly. "Arty, should we...?"

My dad shakes his head. "Absolutely not, Kathleen. Those Peacekeepers know who's there and who isn't. We'd be dead before you could say "I regret staying".

"I suppose you're right..." Mom sighs. "Well, if you two aren't going to eat any more, get ready. We'll leave in ten minutes."

I go into the bathroom and take out the comb. My bed-ruffled hair is sticking up all over the place and I would never be allowed into the Reaping looking like that.

"Mitch!" calls my mom, after I have finished up in the bathroom. "Time to go!"

"Okay, Mom!" I call, stepping out of the bathroom. Pansy is in her new Reaping dress- a pale cream dress and cream-colored flats. "You look nice," I compliment her.

"Thanks." she says. "You do, too."

"Well, time to go!" Dad smiles weakly.

And so we go off to the center of town, where the Reaping is held. When we arrive, we separate, my parents to the outskirts with the other parents, which creates a ring around us, and my sister to the 13-year-old girl section, and me to the 15-year-old section, where I slip in between two boys that I don't really know that well.

"Welcome, everyone, to the ninety-fifth annual Hunger Games!" a younger lady, who must be the new District escort, struts onto the stage. Her hair is dyed a ridiculous bright orange. She has a thick amount of blue makeup on, and her nails are very long and brightly decorated. "I'm Andromeda Sheffield, District Six's escort! How about I introduce District six's mentors, Tara Crane, last year's victor of the Hunger Games, and Larry Harkins, the winner of 65th Hunger Games!"

The crowd applauds. I turn to look at a row of four chairs. There's one where the mayor is sitting, one where Andromeda had been sitting, and there's two more seats- two for the Victors. One of them, the male, Larry, can't be much older than forty-five, but his face is sagging, and yellowed face and teeth. He looks ill, and it's rather disgusting. It hit me. He was a Morphling addict. The female, Tara, didn't look like she had ever taken Morphling. She looked young, healthy, and muscular. I applaud for her. I couldn't see that the Morphling would be much help to her.

"Well, let's get on with the Reaping! Ladies first! Let's see..." Andromeda grasped the Reaping ball and dipped her hand into the glass. "Lark Griffiths!"

A girl steps from the thirteen-year-old girls' section. I gasp. Lark is my sister's best friend. I glance at Pansy. Her eyes are wide, and they're tear-filled.

"Hello, Lark!" Tara pats her on the back. "Let's give Lark a round of applause!"

There's a smattering of applause. I don't applaud. I just stare at Lark, who's trembling.

"Well, time for gentlemen!" Andromeda announced. "Mitchell Underwood!"

"NO!" screamed Pansy. But of course, she's powerless. She can't say "I volunteer", because she's a girl.

I slowly step up to the stage. Lark stares at me.

"Well then, give it up for Mitchell!" Andromeda announces.

While the crowd gives a small round of applause, I move closer to Lark, who's shaking. "Well, your brother's gonna go to the arena with you." I smile weakly.

Lark is almost like a sister to me. Her father and her brother died in a train wreck, leaving only her mom to take care of her. She worked, but got minimal pay. Soon after, Lark was going to have to sign up for tessrae, but Pansy didn't want her to. So she begged my dad to help provide for Lark's family too. And so he agreed. Now, we're lower in money, but we don't need tessrae, and luckily, neither does Lark.

"So, how about the Tributes shake hands?" Andromeda says cheerily.

I reach out and take Lark's hand, and shake it, while squeezing it reassuringly.

"Well, that's it!" Andromeda nods, and Peacekeepers step onto the stage and escort us to the Justice Building, where we'll say our final good-byes before we leave for the train station- and probably say good-bye forever. I glance at Lark as the Peacekeepers shove us into a room in the Justice Building. Poor Lark was shivering, although it was particularly warm out. The poor girl wouldn't last a day if I didn't look out for her. I would be surprised if she made it through the Bloodbath. _I will protect you, even if I need to sacrifice myself._

* * *

**So... you've met 6 out of 12 Tributes I shall introduce. But I mainly want to focus on one of the 12 Tributes you have or will see the POVs of the Reaping. So... tell me which OC you want to be focused on for the events before, during, and after the Hunger Games!**

**R&R please!**


	7. Chapter 7: District 7's Reaping

"All right, Kass! Wake up!" my sister, Bella, shook me awake.

"But I don't want to." I grumble, putting my pillow over my head.

"Grumpy teens." Bella grumbles. "Mom wants you to wake up, though. You've gotta get ready for the Reaping."

_Oh god. That's today? I had totally forgotten. _"Right..." I slip out of bed, and run to my dresser. I fling it open, and pull out my Reaping dress, which is neatly folded and tucked away in the corner of the drawer. I let it fall unfolded and I look at it, studying it carefully. It's a light purple dress with puffy sleeves. "Okay, Bella, when do we have to leave?"

"In about forty-five. That gives you enough time to vomit your worries up, doesn't it?" Bella says sweetly and innocently.

I want to yell at her, but she has a point. Every morning, since I was old enough to have my name in that glass Reaping Ball, just a little bit before we went to the Town Square, I'd vomit up everything that I had eaten, out of worry. But it wouldn't be like that this year. I had been strengthening my stomach for this day. "I'll be fine." I say simply.

Bella observed my dress. "I wonder what the brats from Districts 1,2, and 4 are doing right now."

"Well, the Careers are probably celebrating," I say, pulling off my pajamas and slipping into my dress. "They're probably bragging to each other that they're going to win the Games."

"Do you ever wonder how the parents of the Reaped kids feel?" asks Bella.

"No. I'd rather not. It's just... too sad." Bella nods solemnly. "I wonder who's gonna be Reaped this year."

"I don't know, but it was rather strange, having both of the Tributes die during the Bloodbath. Iris wouldn't stop complaining that they brought shame to District Seven. I got really sick of her complaining."

"It's a miracle she wasn't born in District One. No offense, because I know she's your friend, but Iris is a stuck-up brat."

"She is not my friend. I really don't like her. But she was born in the wealthier part of District Seven. Plus, her uncle is the mayor. There's a reason she's a brat, I guess."

"We were born in the wealthier part of District Seven, but that doesn't make us brats." Bella says.

"Not exactly. We were born in a wealthier part of a poorer part of District Seven."

"Point taken. Anyways, why are we bothering to argue over this?"

"I really don't know." "Girls!" my mom calls. "Time for breakfast!"

I slip past Bella and lead the way into the kitchen. "Where's Dad?"

"He had to go to work- apparently, some consumer was displeased with some of his purchases, and "Demanded to speak with the manager". So, he had to leave," my mom explains.

"Will he be home in time for the Reaping?" I ask, grabbing a handful of blackberries from the bowl placed on the table.

"I think so. He left about an hour ago. He should be home soon, I think. Unless the customer decided to make them fix whatever happened right then," my mom replies.

And then, almost as if it was planned, there was a noise of an opening door, and my dad steps into the kitchen. "Hello, my sweethearts." he smiles, kissing Bella on the forehead, kissing my mother lightly on the lips, and me, the only one who is standing up, a big hug. "How are we doing?"

"Well, the girls seem pretty good," my mom smiles. "Well, for- ahem, today."

"That's... good... I guess?" my dad says, suppressing a smile.

"Sure." I grumble at my parents, who don't seem to know what to say for this occasion.

"Well, finish getting ready, girls. We ought to leave soon." my mom says hastily.

"Yep." I pick up another handful of blackberries and pop them into my mouth. I walk into the bathroom and quickly put up my hair in a neat bun.

Bella walks into the room, asking for a braid, and so I oblige, weaving her hair, making sure it's perfect.

"Girls! Time to go!" my mom calls.

I tie Bella's hair, securing the braid, and hurry out of the bathroom, my little sister following.

We set out, and get there just a little before the escort is supposed to come onto the stage, so we have enough time to find some friends to stand with during the Reaping. Bella goes off to the thirteen-year-old girls' section, and I go to the fifteen-year-old girls' section. I have just enough time to squeeze in between two of my friends, Beth Eisenhower and Rose Havins, when the anthem begins to play and a muscular man struts onto the stage.

"Hello!" the man roars. "I'm Harry Glenwood, District Seven's escort! But of course you know that. What we want to know is who will be the Tributes for District Seven during the ninety-fifth annual Hunger Games!"

Applause- but not much. Harry dislikes the lack of applause that District Seven gives him every year, but he can't complain. It's better than some Districts. Some don't bother to applaud at all, unless the escorts make them.

"Well, then, moving right along..." Harry nods. "Well, let me introduce this year's mentors for District Seven- Johanna Mason, the winner of seventy-first Hunger Games, and Lana Redwall, winner of the eighty-ninth Hunger Games!"

I look at the two Victors- two of the three Victors currently alive for District Seven. Johanna has spiky-ish brown hair, wide-set brown eyes, and is very muscular. She was around age forty, but still looked like she was thirty.

Lana was tall and blond with blue eyes. She, like Johanna, was muscular, and looked exactly her age- which was nineteen. She was Reaped at age fourteen, but was still stronger than plenty of the older Tributes. I remember watching her in the arena- because her Games were the first that my parents let me watch. She allied herself with the Careers, acting seemly innocent and someone who could be used, and mainly let them do the kills. And eventually, when it came down to five tributes left, she turned back on the Careers, and by then, there were only two left- the boys from District's One and Two. She slit the boy from Two's throat, and then the boy from One abandoned her and killed the girl from Six, and she killed the boy from Nine. And then they met in vicious combat, but eventually, they got to each other. The boy from One died immediately. Lana was knocked unconscious, and the doctors who picked her up had to work really hard to save her.

"Well, let's get going!" Harry announces. "Ladies first, of course..." grasping the girls' Reaping Ball. "Kassidy Baylor!"

My first instinct was to cry. Not out of fear (well, actually in fear, but something else), but to be like Johanna and Lana- to try to fool the others, because I know that cameras will be searching for me. But I don't bother- it seemed like faking is District Seven's lifeline. The other Tributes would know that. I'm going to have to try a different tactic. So I blink back the tears, and stride forward. Forget crying, I could vomit. I haven't been training my stomach for this! I climb the steps._ I can do this. I can do this._ I have done axe-throwing before. I know that I've already got a skill that would help me through the Games.

"Glad you could come!" Harry shakes my hand. "Thought you weren't going to!"

"I didn't think so either," I mutter under my breath. Harry lets go of my hand, and grabs the boys' Reaping Ball. Quickly, he snatches up a name. "Gabriel Blackthorn!" he roars.

I look at the only moving figure in the crowd. A tall, muscular boy slowly weaves his way from the back of the crowd. Thinking back to what Bella said earlier, I nod to myself. _Oh yes. District Seven has some very strong tributes._ Or at least tribute. Gabriel could probably snap my neck without putting much effort into it. I'm glad he's my District partner. Or should I be? I remember last year's Hunger Games, where, as an effect of being dehydrated, District Ten's boy went insane and killed all of his alliances- including his District partner. I think he could've resorted to cannibalism, but the Gamemakers then sent jabberjays to torture him, making noises sounding like the people he loved, and he committed suicide by hanging himself. It was awful. I didn't watch much of those Games.

The mayor walks onto the stage and begins the Treaty of Treason. I don't bother listening, I've heard it before. So I let all of my thoughts flood into my head. Eventually, the mayor finishes and makes me and Gabriel shake hands.

Gabriel holds his hand out and I stare at it for what must be a minute. It's big, muscular, and sturdy. Eventually, he reaches out and grabs my hand, flings it up and down a couple of times, and drops it. It flops to my side. And then Harry claps his hands and Peacekeepers march up the stairs, forming a circle around Gabriel and I.

They move forward, going towards the Justice Building. We're stuck in the middle, and I'm rooted to my spot on the stage. So one of the Peacekeepers shove me forward, and I nearly trip, stumbling down the steps. Eventually, as I'm jostled forward, Gabriel reaches out and offers his hand to me. I gratefully reach out and I move forward more confidently.


	8. Important: Please Read

**Hi! So... I've decided to delete this story, for a few reasons, but only one really matters. I was writing a Bloodbath scene for this story, and since I've put my characters through a lot of character developement, it didn't seem right killing them. So if you want, you can adopt this story, because I'm not going to work on it anymore. Just review and tell me you're going to adopt it. **

**I'm going to make another story, though, through one of the Tribute's POVS. I'm going to use the same names, so feel free to change the names of the characters- or keep them, I don't care.**

**Oh, Eliminator and everyone else who are willing to report me, I've got a story:**

One day, the children of Panem woke up, and went to the Reaping. Twenty-four got selected to go to the Hunger Games. They paraded, trained, and then got plunked in an arena. The Careers were killing machines, and everyone else tried to avoid them. In the end, one person remained living. They went on a Victory Tour and were scarred for life. The end.

**So, feel free to adopt this. Sorry if you had any interest in this story...**

**-Chucklez**


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